The Crucifix Killer(72)

‘Whatever it is that you’re cooking smells great,’ he said, walking into the kitchen with both glasses in hand. He handed one to Isabella who slowly swirled it around and brought it to her nose before having a small sip.

‘Wow, as I expected . . . delicious.’

Hunter had no idea what difference it made but he copied Isabella’s moves, swirling, sniffing and sipping.

‘Yeah, not bad.’ They both laughed.

She lifted her glass in Hunter’s direction. ‘To . . . a nice evening together. Hopefully with no phone interruptions.’

Hunter nodded and softly touched his glass against hers.

The evening proceeded better than Hunter could’ve hoped for. Isabella cooked veal parmesan with prosciutto and Mediterranean roasted vegetables, which came as a surprise. He was expecting some traditional Italian pasta dish. Most of the conversation over dinner revolved around her life, with Hunter revealing very little about his own.

She grew up in New York. Her parents were first-generation Italian immigrants who had come to the United States during the early seventies. They owned a restaurant in Little Italy where she spent most of her childhood and teenage years together with her brother. She’d moved to LA only five years ago when she accepted a research job with the University of California in Los Angeles. She still flew back to New York at least three times a year to visit her folks.

‘Do you keep in touch with your brother?’ Hunter asked.

Isabella took her time before pulling her stare away from her wine glass. ‘My brother passed away,’ she said with sadness in her eyes.

‘Oh! I’m so sorry.’

‘It’s OK,’ she replied with a slight shake of the head. ‘It was a while ago.’

‘Were you still kids?’

Her stare went back to her wine glass. Hunter could tell she was searching for the right words. ‘He was a Marine, sent to a war we didn’t belong. In a country most Americans can’t even spell the name of.’

Hunter wondered if he should ask any more about it, but Isabella made the decision for him. ‘You know, this ain’t fair,’ she said, clearing the table and taking the dishes into the kitchen.

‘What ain’t fair?’ Hunter followed her, carrying both glasses with what was left of the wine.

‘You. I’ve basically told you my whole life story and every time I ask you about yours you give me some evasive answer. Is that a common thing among detectives?’ She turned on the sink tap placing the plates under the running water.

‘We’re very good at asking questions, but not so hot at answering them.’ Hunter had another sip of his wine and watched Isabella wash the first plate and place it on the dish rack. ‘Wait. Let me do that for you.’ He placed his hand on her shoulder and gently led her away from the sink. She smiled and picked up her wine glass.

‘So you’ll tell me nothing of your life.’ She tried again.

Hunter finished washing the remainder of the dishes and turned to face her. ‘I’m a detective for the Los Angeles Robbery-Homicide Division, assigned to a section called Homicide Special 1. We only deal with serial killers, high-profile and other homicide cases that require extensive time. In other words, I’m assigned mainly sick, overly brutal cases. The people I deal with on a day-to-day basis are either very evil or very dead. The things I see every day would make most people sick to the stomach. Talking about my life is, without a doubt, the biggest conversation killer anyone could come up with.’ He paused for another sip of wine. ‘Trust me, you don’t really wanna know about my days or my job.’

‘OK then. Don’t tell me about your job. Tell me about your childhood, your family.’

‘Not much to tell,’ he said shortly.

She understood and decided not to push it. ‘OK. I like mystery.’ His boyish charm excited her. She stepped closer and took the glass from his hand placing it on the kitchen worktop. She slowly moved her face nearer until her mouth was less than an inch from Hunter’s left ear.

‘So what do you do to relax?’ Her sexy voice was now just a tender whisper. Her warm breath against his neck made him rigid. Hunter lent his face back just enough so they were looking into each other’s eyes.

‘Can I suggest something?’ At that moment their lips touched. Hunter immediately felt her soft tongue against his and they exploded into a passionate kiss. He pulled her closer and felt the stiffness of her nipples against his chest. He pushed her against the worktop and lifted her onto it. In an instant she’d lost her blouse, Hunter’s mouth exploring every inch of her breasts. Isabella threw her head back and moaned with pleasure. Before Hunter had a chance to unbutton his shirt she grabbed it with both hands and ripped it from his body, the buttons bouncing over the worktop and floor. They embraced once again, leading to another ferocious kiss; this time Isabella plunged her long red nails into Hunter’s back, her grip tight and tender at the same time.